Although the thatched huts were identical, there was no denying it.
Who lived in them still made a difference.
For one thing, the faint fragrance inside made Yimo feel extremely comfortable.
"Dieyu, you said yesterday that you supported me."
"But today, you turned around and helped Ferryman and Cthulhu instead."
"That's not very nice!"
Yimo was sitting in the chair inside Dieyu's hut, his tone relaxed and no different from casual conversation.
Dieyu wore a black spaghetti-strap gauze dress. She did not rush to speak, merely wandered around Yimo a few times and examined him carefully.
Then she pinched his still-damp hair. The two of them were less than thirty centimeters apart as she said with concern, "You got drenched in such heavy rain, and you didn't even dry your hair after washing it. Aren't you afraid of getting sick?"
Yimo shook his head. "Not to mention there's no hair dryer. Even if there were one, do we have electricity here?"
Dieyu nodded firmly. She leaned her little head toward the front of Yimo's tracksuit and sniffed around his heart. She did not move away, merely said softly, "There's no strange smell, but it's all wet. It must be uncomfortable to wear, right?"
Dieyu was too close to him now, practically pressed against him.
Yimo had come this time to persuade Dieyu to vote with him. Since he was in the weaker position, he did not dare retreat and could only say, "I didn't prepare any spare clothes. I'll just make do."
"It's not like it'll kill me."
Following Yimo's words, Dieyu nodded, her little head bobbing. Her orange ponytail swayed back and forth before Yimo's eyes, rather alluring.
"Mr. Siba Jungler, you're quite thin, and you're only about seven or eight centimeters taller than me."
"I have quite a